If like me you have read Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink, and like me you are easily influenced, you will have adopted a mentality whereby you make gung-ho, snap decisions on the basis of gut instinct. This, in a nutshell, is the philosophy espoused within the book – make knee-jerk choices like a barmy fat cat and never stop to reflect. Actually it's highly likely that I'm massively oversimplifying Gladwell's book, as I didn't bother to read all of it. I just read the first page, gleaned that it was about making gut decisions and then made the gut decision to stop reading it. I've never looked back.

Since then I've been judging everything with the caffeinated velocity of a mouse's heartbeat. Options whiz by on the souped-up conveyer belt of my days – "Yes, I'll buy those trousers"; "I think I love you"; "I hate you, and I demand a refund for these unflattering lady's trousers". I couldn't be more prejudicial and ill-considered if I were to chisel out my lovely brain and replace it with Richard Littlejohn's secret agenda. I employed this half-baked thinking technique when watching Alan "the Geordie Pope" Shearer giving his inaugural press conference as Newcastle manager. Shearer was composed, confident, funny and sincere, so I instantly adjudged him to be a success.

As I tuned in he was wise-cracking about his well-chosen assistant, Iain Dowie, a man who could shelter from a storm under his own eyebrow ridge. "He will be a fresh face," said Alan, "not a pretty face but a fresh one" – which seems like the kind of good-natured bonhomie that will be required to lift spirits at St James' Park.

I suppose that predicting whether players will become good managers or not is one of the trickier aspects of armchair punditry. Not so long ago I confidently announced to an indifferent world that Roy Keane would elevate Sunderland to the status of footballing emperors who would Harlem Globetrot their way to Premier League glory. Within 48 hours he was walking those poor dogs of his who only see the light of day when Roy storms out of a job – his living room carpet must look like a dirty great Rorschach test.

Shearer sat behind that ubiquitous press conference trellis table, all mighty, protecting the beleaguered Toon like King Kong with his dolly bird. Many managers have been exposed by that set-up. Steve McClaren never looked like he should be there when doing England press. I always thought he might leap to his feet and start serving drinks. Alex Ferguson has the bored authority of a 3am desk sergeant and that ninny from Hull, Phil Brown, looks like he's a tipsy new judge for Dancing On Ice. Shearer was edificial and authoritative at the media banquet, refusing to be drawn into controversy or hyperbole, sticking throughout to his mantra that he was there for eight games. In comedy, timing (and jokes) is everything – Shearer has chosen the perfect moment for his coronation. There are sufficient points available to garner salvation and to ignite a Geordie conga of goodwill and hysteria that will see him anointed full time.

Like many of the decisions to have come out of this uniquely beloved club, this appointment could be regarded as emotionally motivated. But I think, in this instance, it will work out. Dennis Wise has moved on, which Shearer claimed was due to some unknowable horoscopic alignment rather than his willpower, and this will please the fans no end. Wise was always regarded as a Cockney interloper, ballsing things up from within and reeking of jellied eels and John Fashanu's cologne. Perhaps this was unfair but his exit makes the return of Joe Kinnear even more unlikely.

Even though Shearer has said he'll be there for "eight games" and that Kinnear will return as manager when he's fit, it's difficult to envisage a situation where Newcastle avoid relegation and after all the relief and celebration the people of Tyneside are informed that Shearer has gone and Kinnear will be returning. "OK. I know some of you were fond of Alan, in the sense of a blindly devoted love that will never, ever die. Well, he's gone. The good news is you can catch him Saturday nights on Match of The Day. Now be gentle with Joe, he's got a dodgy ticker."

The gods of football like a good narrative. It was those gods who deigned that Andriy Shevchenko would score an equaliser for Ukraine at Wembley on Wednesday night against England. He struggled to score when playing in this country with Chelsea so how fitting that on returning to the emporium of English soccer he registered a strike. It was good for the story. It is Alan Shearer's destiny to succeed at Newcastle United – it's in his blood and it's in his accent and, like he did in the 90s, he will lead Newcastle to Shangri-La. It's obvious. I can tell from looking at him.